


The Witch Thief

by Peaches_is_gay



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fantasy, Gay Male Character, Intersex Character, Lesbian Character, M/M, Magic, Original Character(s), Original Universe, Other, POV Multiple, POV Third Person Limited, Revenge, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:02:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28198842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peaches_is_gay/pseuds/Peaches_is_gay
Summary: Cyrus has an encounter with a strange criminal and meets two new friends.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 1





	The Witch Thief

Cyrus strolled down the cobbled roads of his city, enjoying the dimly moonlit streets and the sounds of his boots stomping across stone. He didn’t often take walks so late, especially with a busy day planned for the next morning, but tonight felt just right for him to wander the empty streets. He found the dark cooled air to clear his head and at the very least it was a good enough excuse to have some privacy from his roommate and friend, Edelbrand. Cyrus only let his thoughts of Eddy linger for a few moments and drug them back to the quiet night he was so fully enjoying. The night whose quiet was broken soon after, by a window beside him being shattered to pieces.

Jumping back in surprise from the sudden commotion, Cyrus narrowly dodged a woman’s body that had been flung through the window and was now skidding across the path before him. As both he and the woman regained themselves, Cyrus got a good look at her. Though it was strange, perceiving her was not as simple as any other person he’d met, something made it feel as if he was unable to fully comprehend her when he looked. He was fully able to observe her form, even notice an injury on her left leg; an arrow stuck shallowly into her thigh. However, Cyrus somehow felt he could not fully see her, and stranger still he felt that if he looked away, he might forget her existence entirely as if his mind rejected her being there.

Cyrus did not get much time to continue pondering the woman’s eldritch effect on him and in fact, was forced to test his intuition of forgetting her when his gaze shifted away to look towards the sound of voices behind him. Stepping through the broken window were two men, both taller than Cyrus and one of them wider and rounder in both body and features than the other. The round man hefted a large greataxe in his hands and his seeming partner held an expensive-looking bow, its corresponding quiver mounted on a belt haphazardly placed over his shoulder and filled to the brim with metal arrows glinting in the moonlight. Both men were looking past Cyrus and to the mystery woman. Taking a few more steps back to get all three strangers into view, Cyrus saw the mystery woman was now standing up and, to his dismay, stood at his exact height.

But before Cyrus could question the situation or even finish his griping thoughts about his own meager height an arrow flies past his face, let loose by the bow-wielding stranger. It seems to miss its mark and clatters against cobblestones near the mystery woman’s feet but the man quickly notches another, revealing his experience with the weapon he wielded. Cyrus reached for the sword kept at his side despite not even knowing whose side he was on or if he was even part of the fight at all. The mystery woman shifted her hands quickly and skillfully, casting a spell Cyrus didn’t recognize but would quickly see the effects of. As the bow-wielding stranger’s next arrow was loosed the woman appeared to completely vanish, moving at a speed too fast for Cyrus’ eyes to follow and being long gone when the arrow reached where she once was. When Cyrus’ vision caught up he saw that the woman had moved forward, now in a fighting stance and seemingly ignoring him completely as she faced the two strangers.

The stranger with the axe stepped in front of his partner, readying his gargantuan weapon and asking the bow-wielding stranger, “Who the hell is she to have spells like that?”

“I think I might’ve stolen from the Witch Thief, she’s got that obfuscation spell people talk about.” The bow wielder responds, bringing another arrow to his bowstring. 

Hearing this confused Cyrus even more, normally it would be his job to side against thieves but both his options were just that. Despite the confusion, he still felt that he could not simply step away from the situation at this point. Perhaps I can just make sure no one gets hurt? He thought to himself. Unfortunately, he only thought and didn't interject, letting the two strangers chatter on and stand threateningly ready to strike at the Witch Thief before them.

“I told you not to, Fynn.” The axeman says to his partner somewhat gloatingly.

The Witch Thief interjects, sounding irritated by their conversation. “Will you two be quiet and just give me my bow back?”

Thieves stealing from thieves… I guess that's where that phrase about honor comes from. Cyrus thought to himself. He also finally thought to interject, seeing a more clear victim in the situation. “Nobody has to fight here,” he said, walking between the two parties. “Just return the bow and stop breaking windows and we can all go home.”

There was silence for a while and, looking around, Cyrus saw absolute bewilderment on the gazes of all three strangers. He realized that none of them had actually noticed he was there until just then. Cyrus felt slight embarrassment wash over him, painting his usually pale face a light pink tone but he kept his cool… until the Witch Thief tapped him on the shoulder and he jumped backward with a shamefully high pitched noise.

The woman thankfully didn’t mention the noise but did warn Cyrus, somewhat condescendingly, “You should get out of the way. He’s not the best of shots.” She gestured to the bowman who still had his arrow aimed directly at her face.

The archer scoffed, offended “The only thing bad about my shots is how it feels on the receiving end. Here, let me show you.” He loosed his arrow and his partner tried vainly to stop him the moment he realized what was happening. The arrow’s pointed tip zipped past the back of Cyrus’ head so close he felt the air rushing by but by the time it reached its mark the Witch Thief was gone once more. She reappeared between the strangers and cast a spell, giving Cyrus enough time to whip his head around and see a magic force blast the two men apart from each other. Luckily he was far enough away to only feel the shockwave as it whipped past him like furious winds on a stormy sea.

Cyrus reached again for his sword but the axe wielder was already recovered and poised to strike at the Witch Thief, only pausing when he saw her casting another spell. He kept his distance this time and Cyrus watched as eight sharp knives glowing with purple magic materialized in front of the Witch. She took each between her fingers, making it look as if she had claws that emanated a deep purple fog.

Seeing an opportunity after the casting, the axeman lunged at the Witch Thief, which caused Cyrus to finally draw his sword. Before he did anything with it though the Witch was gone again and appeared close to the charging man, slamming both her fists into his stomach. Cyrus prevented himself from wincing as he imagined being punctured by the magic knives and noted to himself that no matter what side he took, the Witch Thief would probably be the victor. Then he realized that the blow would send the man in one specific direction; towards him. Cyrus almost leaped to get out of the way and the heavy man was thrown onto his back where Cyrus had been standing.

With the axe-wielding stranger needing more time to regain himself from such a blow, the Witch Thief turned to the archer, who had been thrown against the wall beside the window the three had come out of. When he realized he was her next target, the man took two arrows in his hand, shooting one out then quickly readying the other. Just as before, the Witch Thief dashed out of the way of the first arrow, unfazed in her approach. The moment the bowman found her again his second arrow flew towards her. Instead of being caught off guard, however, the Witch brought her fist to meet the arrow’s shaft as it was just inches from hitting her, shattering it in half and sending both ends twirling to the side. Cyrus knew the man was truly in danger now but at the same time heard the axeman groaning behind him.

Cyrus made a quick decision and turned to kneel at the large man’s side, seeing he was now trying to get back up but his wound was making it difficult. Laying his sword on the ground, Cyrus attempted to help the man up but the man refused the assistance.

“You should just get out of here,” the axeman warned, wincing in pain as he sat up. “This isn’t even your fight.”

“But your friend…” Cyrus grasped at an excuse to stay and help even though it stung how right the man was. This was dangerous business that wasn’t his.

Behind him, Cyrus heard the harmonies of the archer’s bowstring, plucking out a frantic melody with arrows clattering against stone as its percussion. Without even looking Cyrus could imagine the panic on the man's face as the Witch who had proven herself so quickly in the battle approached. 

The large man had now managed to stand up and looked down at Cyrus, greataxe once again in hand. “Fynn is an idiot but I’ll keep him safe. You do the same for yourself.” A deep roar from the man followed his last word as he began charging at the Witch Thief. Cyrus watched as the massive man threw himself into the air with his weapon raised high, poised to cleave the poor woman in half if it hit. Cyrus couldn’t help but feel his heart jump with the man, realizing the stranger’s strength, but he quickly attempted to clear his head and take his sword in his hands once more.

The Witch Thief once again darted out of the way, leaving the archer to catch his breath and his partner’s greataxe to smash against the cobblestones, creating a ringing sound that lingered in the air. When she reappeared she attacked the axeman again, however this time he’s far more prepared, covering his body with the flat side of his axe and letting the Witch shove her fist into solid metal. But what the man and Cyrus were not ready for were for the dark magic knives that facilitated the Witch’s attack to burst into an explosion of purple smoke and fire, knocking the axe wielder back and sending a large crack shooting across the side of his weapon. The man dug his heels into the dips between stones to slow himself and as he did his cracked weapon split into two pieces, half of the blade falling to the ground.

As Cyrus watched the Witch shatter steel with a single spell he was able to finally make a decision on who to fight. He knew of the Witch Thief before this, a strange and powerful thief and assassin that had killed a number of people all across the city. Cyrus thought of the safety he’d bring people if she was stopped. She had already proven before his eyes that she could be incredibly dangerous even to skilled fighters. What followed that thought was one he was far more ashamed of but it filled his stomach with burning anticipation. Imagine the bounty I could get. Cyrus readied his sword, concentrating on the powerful Witch before him. He vowed to himself that the two strangers and everyone else in his city would come to no further harm from this criminal.

The Witch Thief dashed towards the bowman, who still didn’t look ready to be her target again, his eyes filled with anxiety and flicking from her to his partner and back. The Witch’s movements seemed to be slowing down and Cyrus noted that he could follow her movements again, but she was still outrageously quick. The axeman seemed to have noticed this too because he once again moved to help the archer, catching the Witch Thief before she reached her target with the blunt end of his shattered greataxe by slamming it into her like a bat. She flew backward, losing her balance and wheezing from having the wind knocked out of her. Cyrus saw his opportunity and ran to catch her before she moved again. He placed the tip of his blade against the back of her neck alerting her of his proximity and issued a warning.

“Don’t move or this gets pushed through your throat,” Cyrus growled.

“Damn,” The Witch breathed, her voice wheezing as she spoke. “Not bad for the guy who sat back and watched the whole fight.”

The backhanded comment certainly stung but Cyrus let himself ignore it to enjoy the quick victory his patience had earned him. Around the Witch’s head, Cyrus saw the two men walk up to her, the archer pulling an arrow back and aiming it inches from the Witch Thief’s neck and the axeman standing to block any further direction for escape.

The axe wielder spoke to Cyrus, sounding somewhat baffled. “You are stupider than Fynn little guy.”

Little… come on man. Cyrus griped to himself and tried his best to not look offended. “I got her, didn’t I?”

The archer, Fynn, was the one to respond. “Yeah, it was a good move from both you and Locke.” Fynn glanced toward his partner when he said his name. “And now she’s not going anywhere, especially with that speed spell wearing off.”

Cyrus heard a soft chuckle from the Witch and before he had time to question her about it he felt her heel be thrust between his legs, smashing into his crotch and forcing him to lower his sword from pain. He could only watch as the Witch ducked down letting Fynn’s arrow whizz over her head and swiping her leg out to trip both men in front of her. The stolen bow slipped from the archer’s hand as he fell and the Witch used what Cyrus assumed to be the last of her speed spell to swiftly catch it before it collided with the ground. Both Fynn and his partner, Locke, lay on their backs, winded, and the Witch placed her foot on the fallen bowman’s throat. She ripped the belt and quiver from his shoulder and took an arrow into her bow, pointing it at Locke threateningly. Her other set of shadow knives were still in her fist that gripped the bow and they began surrounding the arrow tip in the faint purple fog that had burst from them before.

“Now that you’ve kindly given me my bow back,” the Witch began, speaking as if she was explaining something to a child. “No one else has to get hur-”

Before she could finish Cyrus was back on his feet, knowing full well the irony of her statement. She certainly would use that bow to hurt more innocent people. He charged forward with his sword outstretched in front of him as if it were a spear and felt a spark of satisfaction when he saw surprise in the Witch Thief’s eyes. But even without her speed and being caught off guard, the Witch reacted fast and Cyrus felt his charging stride falter as she moved to the side barely in time for his blade to swipe past her head. Cyrus tried to slow his movement however the Witch’s boot being kicked into the small of his back prevented him and he was sent careening into the wooden wall of a nearby building. 

Despite his personal failure, Cyrus could tell his attack had helped when he heard a frantic scuffle arise behind him. Pulling his sword from where it had stuck itself between wooden boards, he hoped that the constant turning tables of the battle would finally be over. His hopes were answered when he turned, ready to rejoin the fight, only to be met with an arrowhead aimed directly between his eyes, centimeters from his face. The arrow was already bloodied and quickly noticing an empty quiver and a now open wound on the Witch’s thigh Cyrus knew where the blood had come from. Dark purple smog curled around the arrow’s head and lapped at his eyes, blurring his vision as he stared at the Witch Thief glowering before him. In desperation, Cyrus searched behind her for his other combatants but to his dismay he found them. They were both firmly attached to a gnarled, knotted wall belonging to the building opposite the one he was now backed against. Each man had a single arrow that tugged their clothing back and stuck deep into the wood behind them. Cyrus could see Fynn struggling frantically, but nothing short of tearing his clothing would set him free with the dark smoking arrows buried so deep into the wall.

Giving up on hopes of rescue, Cyrus returned his gaze to the Witch Thief. He attempted to get a good look at her face through the haze but the same incomprehension as before plagued this task. He could see the details. He knew she had a face, he could see her eyes and mouth and nose and even a cut he had presumably left from his earlier charge. He saw all that made a face but his mind refused to see the entire thing. And as the fog from the arrow licked like flames across his vision he felt he was seeing a new face each time he caught sight of the Witch again. She spoke to him, growling in a voice deep enough for Cyrus to feel somewhat jealous.

“Throw down your sword,” The Witch commanded. Cyrus racked his brain for an escape but found nothing, resigning himself to following the orders lest he end up far worse off than the two men opposite him. His trustworthy blade clattered against the cobbled road and with an elegant flick of her foot, the Witch sent the sword tumbling away, too far out of reach for Cyrus to ever hope of retrieving it before an arrow was stuck through his back.

“You won’t speak of this to anyone,” The Witch lowered her bow, taking Cyrus by surprise. “Understood?”

Cyrus nodded frantically, still bewildered that he was getting to keep his life, but nonetheless thankful. The Witch started away and Cyrus felt part of himself that wanted to keep trying to fight but in opposition to that, the rest of him was far too dumbfounded to move. He sat on the cold stone road for what felt like years, the whole encounter rewinding in his head too quickly for him to process, swirling around him chaotically. In the eye of the storm of those memories was the Witch, with her grim visage seared into his mind yet still being completely unrecognizable. All of Cyrus’ frantic thoughts led back to her and each time he attempted and failed to discern a person through all the features he could remember. It was as if each part of her that he saw were broken pieces that refused to fit together to create the whole he knew they should be. The strange effect that seemed to warp his vision and mind whenever they laid upon the Witch disoriented Cyrus far more than his rapid thoughts surrounding her ever could. But after what felt like an age and no time at all the storm in his mind cleared and Cyrus felt as if he’d just awoken on the road and the entire night leading up to then had been dreamed.

Of course, it hadn’t been, and such was made clear to Cyrus when his mind finally processed the very real sounds of Fynn still struggling to remove an arrow from his clothes. Standing himself up, Cyrus saw that the archer had managed to rip the arrow from the wall behind him but it was now caught in his shirt and refused to be removed. Even with Fynn comically and repeatedly tugging at it the arrow only became more entangled with his clothing. Locke was still attached to the wall, not trying to escape and seemingly holding back laughter as he watched the bowman struggle and growl in frustration. Cyrus made his way over to the large man, reaching for the arrow that pinned him there.

“Thanks for that,” Locke said as Cyrus tugged on the arrow a few times, eventually getting it to release him. “You definitely saved Fynn’s butt there. Don’t think I caught your name though.”

Fynn interjected before Cyrus could speak. “My butt was fine, he saved you more than me.”

Cyrus ignored the still struggling archer and tossed the now loose arrow aside. “It’s no problem. I’m Cyrus.” He said.

Locke gave Cyrus a nod before heading over to his partner’s side, taking the arrow from the bowman's hands. “I like that name. I’m Locke, and this idiot is Fynn.” A warm feeling rose in his chest from the compliment as Cyrus watched the big man push the arrow through the hole it’d made in the archer’s clothes. He was surprised at how calculated and tender the motion was despite coming from a man who wielded a weapon as heavy and imprecise as a greataxe. More surprising was how immediately Fynn calmed down almost the instant Locke came to his side, staying still and quiet during the whole procedure in stark contrast to his behavior just moments before.

Despite being calmer, Fynn still spoke with indignant frustration. “I’m not an idiot, we ended up fine didn’t we?”

“You’re definitely an idiot but you’re my idiot so yes, we're fine. Don’t need to get huffy about in front of people.” Locke planted a kiss on the bowman’s forehead then turned back to Cyrus. “So what are you doing out here? Is it your job to help random people who get into deadly fights at midnight?”

Cyrus started over to where his sword was thrown to retrieve it as he answered, “No, this isn’t my job but it's close. I’m an adventurer, but tonight I was just trying to get away from my roommate.”

At that, Fynn seemed to perk up. “Oh, shit. I used to do that. Remember me telling you?”

“Yes, I remember your legendary rant about how it used to be called mercenary work but some genius started calling it ‘adventuring’ to make it sound nicer.” Locke smiled as he recounted the detail.

“Well what we do is nicer than mercenary work,” Cyrus quickly said, feeling the need to defend his profession given where he wanted to take the conversation. “But speaking of that, the reason I needed space from my roommate is he’s way too stressed about getting a party together by tomorrow. His stress makes him beyond grouchy.”

“Do you want us to be in your party?!” Fynn rushed to the conclusion, obviously ecstatic at the prospect.

“Uhh… yeah, basically,” Cyrus said, struggling somewhat to catch up with his thoughts. “You’re both very capable. We’d pay you and it's just one adventure so no obligations or anything.” Looking at the two men for a reaction Cyrus knew that Fynn was already sold but his partner seemed somewhat apprehensive.

Locke put his hand on Fynn’s shoulder, explaining, “I’m not sure how good of an idea that is. Look at what just happened, we know what we're doing but were kinda rusty.”

“You don’t have to do it but I will.” The archer replied before Cyrus could get in more explanation. “You don’t have to baby me.”

Locke put on a concerned frown “You’re right, but I want you to be safe.” The man turns back to Cyrus. “So yeah, I’ll do it. I’m basically the only thing keeping Fynn from fighting everything that moves anyway.”

“Actually,” Cyrus begins. “Neither of you will be unsafe. There’s one more party member that my roommate is in charge of getting. A healer.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this here mostly so I can pace myself and actually finish something for once but hopefully people interacting with it will motivate me too!  
> Next chapter is gonna be from another character's perspective and I bet it's easy to tell which one it'll be. Still meeting and setting up all the characters and chapter three will have things really start to happen.


End file.
